Chasing Dragons
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: There is darkness in all of us, hidden behind false smiles and casual words. Ianto has found a new deadly addiction. How far will he go to feed the darkness inside him? The team is about to find out. Warnings: Dark, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: This story is rated M. It is dark and not fluffy. This is Jack/Ianto and there will be some scenes of them together (although, not too explicit.) I am not cruel; there will be resolution/happily-ever-after (or at least fairly-happy-after) for the characters. I promise not to kill them. This could be placed somewhere in the realm of Reset if I forced to pick a time, but I can't kill Owen, so therefore this is AU.

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 1**

The alley was dark and smelled of stale urine and garbage. The only light was the faint flickering glow of the streetlight in the distance. Ianto knew where he was going, though. The darkness didn't bother him. That was why he'd come here so late, to ensure he would go unseen. The shadows both thrilled him and sent shivers down his spine. It made him feel alive.

The air was cool and a light rain had begun to fall. That was one thing that one could always count on in Wales, the rain. He liked the rain. It washed away the evidence of nights like these.

He reached in his pocket and pulled his knife, gripping the handle with practiced grace. His steps barely made a sound as he slinked through the shadows.

There was no way to know how many were there, waiting, but he walked forward. If he were to die here, he wouldn't regret it. The rush, the feeling of fighting, blood flowing, was one he wouldn't exchange for anything.

The smell in the alley changed; there was a musky, bitter odor in the air now. The prey had taken the bait. There was a low rumbling sound coming from beside the dumpster. He stepped cautiously toward it, holding the knife tightly. He thought back to the first time he had done this and the feeling it brought. He couldn't wait to have it again. Charging forward, he tore at its flesh with his blade.

Adrenaline pumped through him, the high he craved was back. Blood covered his hands, mixing with the rain water and running into the puddles by his feet. He momentarily lost his footing on the slick ground and a sharp pain shot through him. He looked down at chest, stunned at the sight. The fabric was torn and the skin beneath split open, blood flowing freely. The pain was enough to send him into a frenzy. He lost control and stabbed at the body until long after it stilled.

Exhausted, he fell to his knees, arms aching, and looked at what he'd done.

Part of him felt sick at the sight, but another was exhilarated. Rainwater and blood dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and slipped the knife back into its sheath. He stood and grabbed the body by its feet, dragging it towards the nearest manhole. He pulled off the cover and dropped the lifeless body in.

Replacing the cover, he looked around. The rain was doing its job of washing away the evidence. No one would know by morning what he had done.

The adrenaline wore off and the pain from his wound began to rage. He gritted his teeth and pressed against it. The fabric was saturated with blood. He needed to get home and treat it before infection set in. There would be no way to explain a wound like this to the team.

When he reached his car, he opened the back and took out his rucksack. It was kept there just for these nights. There were towels, bandages, trash bags, hatchet, rope and a small first aid kit. He reached for the towels and pressed one to his wound. He didn't bother trying to examine it closely. The bleeding seemed to be slowing. He laid the other towel to the front seat, covering it to prevent his blood from staining the leather.

By the time he reached his home, the high he had felt earlier was completely gone. It seemed to last less and less each time. It worried him.

Once inside, he peeled off his layers until he was standing in only his jeans. He grimaced as he saw the two gashes that lay just over his heart. He dabbed at the wounds with the towel and winced.

Keeping the towel pressed in place, he walked to the bathroom and retrieved his first aid kit, bringing it back to the kitchen. He flipped the light on and sat down at the table. He tossed the bloodied towel on the chair beside him and opened the kit.

The gashes were too jagged to be glued back together, so he would have to try and use the steri-strips. He wiped the area down with alcohol, gritting his teeth at the burn. He secured it the best he could and covered it with a gauze pad. It would have to do.

He stood and began straightening the mess around him, bloodied gauze and scraps of paper were scattered across the table. He folded up the kit and carried into the bathroom, putting it back on its shelf.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stared at the reflection. He looked like a ghost, pale and eyes darkened from lack of sleep. He sighed and looked away, stripping off his jeans and boxers. He considered a shower, but his body ached and begged to be horizontal so he trudged out of the room and to his bed.

Ianto woke with a start. The dream he'd had was so vivid, so real. He scrubbed a hand over his face but paused when the faint light hit his skin. There was blood dried to his fingers, caked under his nails. His stomach lurched and he scurried back from the sight, pushing himself against the headboard. Memories of his dream from the night before came flooding back and he hesitantly looked down at his chest, terrified by what he might see. He sucked in a breath and brought a hand up to touch the bandage, prodding it lightly and hissing in pain when he did.

God, he had killed … It was real …

He threw himself out of the bed and ran to the bathroom to examine himself in the mirror. He looked down at the floor and saw bloodied jeans tossed in a heap. He remembered it all, but it wasn't real. It couldn't be. If it was, that meant all the others were real too. He had been killing … maiming … torturing for months.

The stale scent of blood hit his nose and his stomach heaved. He reached the toilet just in time to purge what little there was inside him. He sat back on his knees and wiped his mouth, leaning his head against the cabinet beside him.

What was he going to do? He curled into a ball and rested his head on his knees. He lost all sense of time as he sat there, replaying every sordid detail of what he'd done. His body grew sore and stiff from sitting there, but he couldn't will himself to move.

A crash drew him from his thoughts and he lifted his head. Whatever the noise was, its creator was coming his way. Loud, heavy steps were coming closer. He dropped his head back down. He didn't care who it was or what they wanted.

"Kitchen's clear," a voice he recognized as Owen's called in the distance.

Shame washed over him. He knew any moment that he would be found, curled up like a pathetic child, covered in blood not all his own. They would see what he was.

Footsteps approached the door. The handle moved slightly and then it swung open. Jack was standing with his Webley drawn, pointed toward him. "Found him. Call the girls and let them know."

Ianto didn't bother hiding the pain on his face. He imagined he looked like he felt, completely broken.

"Ianto?" Jack approached him, holstering his gun. He moved with exaggerated slowness. "Hey, there." He knelt down beside him and reached out to touch Ianto's face.

Jack's brow furrowed. "Ianto, what happened to you?"

He looked up to meet Jack's eyes. He knew he should tell him the truth, but he couldn't. He couldn't have those eyes see him for what he was now. And before he could stop himself, the lies tumbled from his lips.

"I … I was went out last night, walking and there was a noise … a weevil. I should have called you … thought I could handle it." His words were broken and short. His mind was still reeling from the truth of what he'd done.

Jack cupped Ianto's cheek. "You could have been killed."

"Sorry," Ianto whispered, looking up at Jack from beneath his lashes. Jack had no idea how sorry he was.

"How did you end up in here?"

"My stomach was upset … felt sick."

"Owen!" Jack yelled over his shoulder.

"Alright, I've called the girls. They're heading back to the hub." Owen appeared in the doorway, his face becoming concerned as he saw Ianto. "Fuck, what the hell happened to you?"

Owen pushed by Jack and knelt down beside him. "Alright, mate. Let's have a look at you."

The doctor pushed Ianto's legs straight, trying to see the wound beneath the bandage.

The gentle touch was too much and Ianto pulled away, looking wide eyed at Owen. He wanted to confess, to tell them the truth, but the words weren't there. Instead, he just froze, staring at his friend.

"Ianto," Owen said. "I need to take a look at your wound. You understand?"

Ianto brought his arms up and curled them around his head. He understood just fine. He didn't want - didn't deserve - their help. He shook his head and clenched his fingers in his hair. The images were so sharp and fresh in his mind, taunting him, reminding him of the lies he had to tell now.

"Right then." Owen sighed. "Jack, need your help here."

"Ianto, look at me." Jack grabbed his hands and gently uncurled his arms. Ianto let him; Jack was the one person he could never deny. "There you are." Jack smiled. "Can you stand?"

Ianto stared into Jack's eyes. They were so blue, so clear, so trusting. He wondered what they would look like seeing him as the monster he'd become.

"Ianto?" Jack's voice shook him back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry. I can get up."

"Nice and easy." Jack put and arm around him and helped him to his feet, but the action sent a searing pain through his chest and a moan escaped his lips.

Jack wrapped his arms around him and supported his weight, leaning the young Welshman against his chest. "Shh, breathe through it."

He kept his head rested against Jack, letting him ease the pain.

"You okay?" Owen asked him, eyeing him carefully.

Ianto hesitantly took a step forward. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Jack guided him to the bed and sat beside him. He rested his hand on Ianto's thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth in soothing strokes.

Owen set his bag down and began laying out supplies on the bed. "I'm going to take a look at your wound now."

He didn't watch as Owen peeled back the gauze, but he heard his sharp intake of breath. "This is pretty bad," Owen said, grabbing his penlight and shining it on the wound. "I'm going to need him back at the hub to clean this up properly. Looks like he tried to clean it, but it's deep, the bone is visible on the lower gash."

Jack tensed beside him. "You shouldn't have been alone. I could have lost you." He sighed and leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Ianto's shoulder.

Owen taped a new gauze pad in place. "I know you don't feel like talking, but I need to know if you're hurting anywhere else."

"No, I'm fine."

"He said his stomach was bothering him," Jack interjected.

Owen eyed Ianto disapprovingly and shook his head. "You know better than to lie to me."

"It's nothing, just a stomach bug or something. I feel fine now."

Owen nodded. "Okay. I'll take your word on it for now, but I want you to tell me if you start feeling sick again. I'll find out if you're hiding anything, so you better fess up before I figure it out."

Ianto shook his head and leaned into Jack. "I'm not."

Owen stood and grabbed his bag. "Okay, we need to get him dressed and to the hub so I can treat him properly."

Jack pressed a kiss to his temple and then stood, walking to the closet. Ianto watched, not caring what Jack chose. It didn't matter anymore. Jack returned to his side with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Ianto didn't comment as Jack picked up his foot and slid it into the pant leg. He repeated it with the other leg and then pulled Ianto to his feet. Jack dressed Ianto with gentle touches, touches that Ianto supposed were meant as comfort, but they only reminded him how undeserving he was.

Ianto stared his hands. The blood still lingered in every crevice, blood he knew wasn't his. In that moment, he made a promise to himself, a promise that it wouldn't happen again. Even if he had to chain himself to the bed every night, he wouldn't let it happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 2**

Ianto watched Owen flip his gloves into the bin. He knew the Londoner was not done berating him. He could understand where the doctor was coming from, but he didn't know the truth, none of them did. They didn't know what he was capable of.

"I swear to you, if you ever go chasing a weevil alone again," Owen said, smacking Ianto in the chest with the folder he was holding. "I'll shove my foot so far up your ass—"

"Owen!" Jack snapped from the railing above. "I think he's got it. You can stop."

Owen scowled at Jack and tossed the folder onto the desk. "Fine," he huffed, pointing a finger at Ianto. "But don't think this is the end of it."

"He's right, Ianto." Jack walked down the stairs, his face serious. "That was a stupid move. You could have been killed."

Ianto could only nod. He hated the feeling of lying to Jack, of knowing he was a disappointment.

"So, how is he, Owen?" Jack motioned to Ianto, who was still perched on the edge of the autopsy table.

The doctor lips were pressed in a tight line and his head cocked to one side. "He'll be alright, as long as he takes it easy for a few days. No heavy lifting, no strenuous activities," he gave a Jack a knowing look, "and he should be fine. He's insisting on returning to work. There no reason he can't do some filing, but that's your call." He looked to Jack.

Ianto gave Jack a pleading look, one he knew he would have a hard time denying. "Jack, I promise to behave. I won't push it and I'll let you check me over later yourself to make sure I'm still fine." A small smile played on his lips.

Jack seemed to consider it for a second but nodded. "Okay, as long as I get to do a thorough exam." He winked.

"Jack, I believe I said 'no strenuous activity.'" Owen gave Jack a pointed look.

Jack grinned. "I didn't say he would be doing any of the work."

Owen shook his head and walked toward the stairs, muttering under his breath about how no one listened to him.

Ianto looked up to meet Jack eyes. They were so blue, so deep, and so easy to get lost in.

Jack's brow wrinkled in concern as he reached up and ran the back of his hand down Ianto's face. His touch was so gentle and warm he couldn't help but turn into it.

"You scared me," Jack said softly, rubbing his thumb across Ianto's cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"Promise me you won't do it again." Jack nudged Ianto's legs apart so he could press himself between them.

"I won't. Promise." He meant it. Last night was the last time. He was going to stop.

Jack's traced his hand down Ianto's neck and to his chest, following the contours of his muscles. "I love seeing you out of your suits," he whispered, leaning in to rest his forehead to Ianto's.

Ianto smirked, twisting his hands in Jack's braces. "I thought you loved my suits."

"I do." Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist, pulling him close. "I like seeing you in anything, really. My favorite, of course, being nothing."

"Of course."

Jack titled his head and their lips met. He ran his tongue along Ianto's bottom lip, asking for entrance. Ianto opened, letting himself get lost in the taste and sensation that could only be experienced through kissing Jack.

Breathless, Ianto pulled away, leaning his head on Jack's shoulder. "I should get to work."

He could feel Jack smile against temple. "You don't have to. You could go lie down in my bunk and rest instead."

Ianto shook his head. "I can't. There's too much to do."

Jack caught his chin and lifted his head. "Promise me you'll take it easy."

"I will."

xXx

Normally, Ianto found the archives comforting. The air down there was always a few degrees cooler, and the only noises to disturb him were the creaking pipes and water dripping the drains. It had become a peaceful place for him, but now all he could see was the darkness, the shadows in the corners.

The old stone walls felt like they were closing in on him. The way the light flickered down the hall made him think back to the alley last night. He still couldn't believe it had been real. His hand went to his chest and pressed over the wound, just enough to make him wince, to remind himself it was real.

He sat at his desk and tried to focus on the work in front of him, but the shadows seemed like they were moving. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he bit his lip, looking around.

Something moved in the distance; it was small but there. He stood, pushing his chair back, its legs grating noisily on the floor. He set his pen down and walked around his desk, watching the distance.

He felt like all his senses were in overdrive. He could hear the light bulb crackling as it flickered, and the sound of the dripping water pounded in his ears; he could nearly taste the musky air on his tongue. It was all so crisp and alive around him.

Cautiously, he approached the corner where he seen the shadow. There was a scratching sound from the shadows. He took another step, and then a mouse ran out from beneath the shelving. Ianto jumped in surprise, his heart pounding.

He took a breath and rubbed his neck, chastising himself for being so ridiculous. It had only been a mouse. He shook his head in disbelief and went back to his desk.

An hour later, he finished his work and sighed. He couldn't wait to be out of there. He tossed the files in the drawer and walked up to center of the hub.

The air felt warmer as he came out of the dark. The clock on the wall caught his eye; it was past feeding time for the weevils. The thought of going back into the narrow corridors below sent a chill through him.

He walked over to the coffee counter and began preparing himself a cup. His head hurt, and he realized he hadn't had more than one cup of coffee so far that day.

Sipping the espresso, he closed his eyes, enjoying the fragrance. It was one of the few things he truly loved and he let it push out everything else in his mind.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he spun on his heels. The cup clattered to the floor and his fist clenched. He bared his teeth, ready to attack, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Gwen was standing there, staring at him, frozen in place. Her eyes were wide and mouth agape. "Ianto?"

He dropped his arms to his side and furrowed his brow. "Gwen, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean … Are you alright?"

She tucked her hair back behind her ear and nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just coming to check on you. You were kind of spacing out there."

Her hand shook slightly and she stepped back from him. The simple motions made adrenaline begin to pump through Ianto's veins. There was a feeling in him bubbling to the surface and it was one the he knew too well, a feeling that he never wanted to feel towards someone he knew. He had to get out of there. He needed to calm down.

"Sorry," he apologized, straightening his coat. "I was just lost in thought I guess. Excuse me." He kept his gaze down as he skirted by her.

He caught Tosh's concerned look as he descended towards the cells. He silently pleaded that she would not follow. He couldn't face anyone like this.

His palms were sweaty and his heart was racing, pounding hard in his chest. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to find some relief. It was like he could feel the blood covering his hands again, the feeling of life flowing out from beneath. What was happening to him? What was he becoming?

The heavy door to the containment area whined as Ianto pushed it closed. He took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs. He gathered himself and went down to the storage room to prepare the weevils' food. He picked up the knife from the counter and began cutting the meat. He noticed just how easily his hands did the task, working the blade smoothly through the flesh. Part of him was fascinated by how comforting the blade felt in his hand, but another screamed how wrong it was.

He portioned the meals and put them on trays, carrying them to the cells. He slid them through the gap in the bottom of the doors. As he came to the last cell, sliding the tray in, the weevil inside charged forward. It snarled and hissed at him.

The familiar sound ignited something in him, a growl built in his chest, matching that of the weevil. Ianto's lip curled over his teeth and hands clenched into fists. The knife was still on the counter; he only had to grab it.

"Ianto, what are you doing?"

He jumped back, startled by Jack's voice. He hadn't even heard the door open.

"Nothing," Ianto said a bit too quickly, motioning to the cells, "just feeding the weevils." He rubbed his palms nervously against his trousers.

Jack pursed his lips and studied Ianto for a second. "Gwen's worried about you. She said you seemed upset."

Ianto frowned, shaking his head. "No, nothing's wrong. I guess I just didn't sleep enough last night."

"Okay." Jack nodded slowly, appearing unconvinced. "The others are heading home. I was wondering if you'd want to go get some dinner with me?"

"Sure, that sounds good." Ianto fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I'll meet you upstairs in a few minutes. I just need to finish up here first."

Jack stared at him for a second, his face unreadable before a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. "I'll be in my office."

Once the door closed behind Jack, Ianto turned back to the weevil that had charged him earlier. It lifted its head from the meal it was devouring and met his gaze. He stepped forward and pressed an open hand against the perspex. The weevil snarled, bloody bits of meat falling from its mouth.

Ianto chuckled, smirking at the beast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**AN:** Feedback is loved. Sorry it took a bit to get written. Thanks for reading

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 3**

He was sweaty and shaky as he walked into his kitchen in the early hours of the morning. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Jack to let him go home alone. Jack nearly pinned him to the cot, insisting that he stay, but Ianto had managed to escape, citing a need for a real bed and shower.

Ianto knew he looked off lately and that it was drawing suspicion from Jack and the others. Ianto had seen the concerned looks as he passed by them during the day, passing out coffee. It was something that he knew would need to change soon. If the team found out what he'd been doing, they would lock him up in the vaults. Part of him, that little voice of reason in his head, thought that maybe they should.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling the caked blood and dirt on his hands pull against his skin. He didn't feel as badly about what he'd done tonight as he had in the past. This time, he was simply disgusted with the sticky blood still clinging to him, rather than how it got there.

Ianto walked to the sink to wash his hands. They shook as he turned on the faucet. He hadn't wanted to do this again. It wasn't his plan when he'd left the hub. It was almost like something had taken over him, made him do the things he done, made him feel the pleasure in the kill. There was killer inside him and it wanted out, and every time it did, it was harder to put away. It was a voice whispering in the darkness, creeping closer and begging him to come closer, just a few more steps, a few more kills.

Sighing, he pulled the knife from his pocket and tossed it into the sink. The water ran pink down the drain as the blood and bits of flesh rinsed away. He felt his stomach churn at the sight, a clear reminder of what he'd done. Grabbing the soap and sponge, he scrubbed the blade. The feeling of the metal in his hand was electric. It immediately quelled any feelings of regret and made him feel alive. It was like an addiction. It made him feel … unstoppable.

He knew he should stop himself, but he didn't want to stop. Frustrated, he slammed the faucet off and stormed out of the kitchen towards his room.

At first it had felt like a dream, but now it was like he just never woke. It was hazy and frightening.

He went to his bedroom and stripped off his clothes, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. Looking over his body, he was thankful he hadn't received any more wounds this time, but it was bittersweet. Because in a way, he hoped that the end would come through what he was doing. That he would be stopped before it escalated any more.

He took a shower and then climbed into bed. He couldn't fall asleep, though. The little sounds that always lulled him to sleep seemed to pound at his ears. It was like his senses were enhanced,_ changing_, and he couldn't turn them off. The little droplets of water falling from the leaky faucet in the bathroom echoed like a pounding drum in the room. Every inhale, he could almost taste the air. His own heartbeat had even seemed to grow louder. The more he tried to turn off his senses, the more aware of them he became.

Reaching the end of his rope, he growled in frustration and grabbed the pillow behind his head and yanked it out, covering his face. He screamed in the fabric, letting out all the built up tension.

Wailing out into the night, he felt so lost. He wasn't Ianto anymore. He wasn't the man he once used to be. Who or what was he turning into?

Exhausted, he laid still and tried to let himself drift off, but it didn't happen, no matter how hard he tried.

Flashes of what he'd done haunted him when he closed his eyes, and even more frightening, were the desires to do more violent things than he had already done. Things that he was terrified his mind had even been able to conjure up. He fantasized about how the knife would feel in his hand as he spilt the flesh of a woman's throat, how warm the blood would feel. He felt himself becoming aroused by the thoughts and his stomach churned.

He sat up, breathing heavily, holding his head in his hands. The bedding was dampened by sweat and wrinkled from his tossing and turning. Unable to sleep, he went to the lounge, stretching out on the sofa. He flipped on the TV and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. Hopefully the TV would distract his mind and give him a moment's peace.

But even there, he couldn't settle down. His hands felt empty. He needed something, but he didn't know what. It was like longing for something he didn't have, almost like withdrawal. Frustrated, he combed a hand through his hair and sat up on the couch.

He stood and walked into the kitchen, hoping a glass of warm milk might calm him down. But the glint of metal in the dim kitchen light caught his eye. He looked down and saw the blade still lying in the sink. It seemed to glisten in even the dimmest light.

His hand seemed to move to it under its own volition. The handle was cold and damp, but as soon as it connected with him, the feeling of restlessness subsided. He ran his index finger along the curved edge carefully, a tingling sensation traveling up his arm as he did. His mouth turned up in a smile and he let out a sigh. He walked back to the sofa and laid down, resting the knife on his chest, his hands pressed over it protectively.

There were no dreams of regret or confused emotions for the rest of the night. Holding the knife to him, he felt completely certain of what he wanted and how he would get it.

xXx

"Ianto, go around to the back. Owen, Tosh, take the side. Gwen, you're with me," Jack ordered as they all approached the dilapidated warehouse. It was out in the middle of rundown area of Splott. There were no occupied buildings nearby. It was just an overgrown lot and a polluted looking canal.

Ianto watched everyone scatter before walking calmly towards the back side of the building. He walked with a predatory grace, practiced and at ease. The others all had their weapons drawn and were approaching with caution.

Ianto chuckled softly to himself at the panic and fear he could practically smell in the air. Maybe he could. He lifted a brow at the thought. He supposed it could be possible, although how he didn't know. It was something he would have to experiment with later.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked along the path, the river was to his left and the warehouse to his right. It wasn't a surprise people didn't bother with the area anymore, old tires and rubbish littered the shoreline. The few trees that seemed daring enough to grow here were scrawny and on the verge of death. The area was quiet pathetic.

The skies were overcast and the air was cool and damp. It smelled musky and a bit like ozone. It was probably going to rain, he imagined, nothing new there.

His head cocked to the side as he walked down the edge of the building, trailing a finger along the rough wall beside him. He could hear the footsteps and murmured words of his teammates, but further out in the distance, he could hear something else. There was a dull thudding of a heartbeat, too loud to be human and too slow to be human. Again, he was shocked how clearly he could hear it, but rather than be concerned, he was simply intrigued.

Ianto walked toward the sound, everything else around him fading out as he approached. A light breeze moved the air and the pungent odor of weevil filled his nose. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he pulled out the knife. He hadn't wanted to carry it to work, but it had become an extension of himself. He had to have it with him. It was the only way to feel whole, for everything to be okay, for it all to make sense.

He heard a snarl down by the water and looked over to the sound. He caught a flash of movement in the distance. Looking carefully, he could see the weevil. It was hunched over by a tree, paying no attention to what was around it.

As he got closer, he could see it was feeding on a carcass of something, possibly human from the skin he could see. The smell was a mixture of blood and decayed flesh. It practically curled his nose hairs.

"Anyone seen anything?" Jack's voice came over the comm.

The response from the team was a chorus of negatives, but Ianto didn't answer at first. He was too busy stalking his prey.

"Ianto, what about you? You seen anything?"

"No, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary," Ianto said calmly, stalking toward the weevil. "But I'll keep looking."

The comm. went quiet again and Ianto glanced back over his shoulder, ensuring no one was following.

Ianto dropped his head and lowered his stance, widening the position of his arms, the knife held firmly in his hand.

A growl bubbled from his chest, catching the attention of the weevil, who looked up and tilted his head.

Ianto smiled darkly, baring his teeth slightly. "Wanna play?" He twirled the knife in this hand.

The weevil shook its head, growling and snarling in return, but it didn't charge.

"Come on, fight me," Ianto commanded, stepping forward.

The weevil charged, claws swinging wildly toward Ianto, who easily dodged them. Ianto ducked and step to the side, turning gracefully at the same moment, not even wrinkling his suit as his knife found purchase in the side of the weevil's body. Blood sprayed out from the wound as he withdrew the blade. The weevil howled in agony, and Ianto felt himself growing aroused by the mayhem. It was thrilling. The weevil spun and snapped his teeth, nearly catching Ianto's arm. Again, he stabbed his knife into the filthy animal, gaining another cry of pain.

The weevil collapsed with a thud as its beat its last time. Ianto panted heavily, catching his breath. Blood covered his face now. So much for keeping his suit clean, he mused. He swept his hand over his brow, wiping the blood and sweat that was threatening to fall in his eyes.

"What the fuck, Jones?" Owen's voice caught his attention, and he looked up at the path and saw his team mates looking down at him. He was so lost in his haze that he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps of the team.

They girls both gasped in shock and Jack stood silent, appraising the situation with an intense gaze. Belatedly, Ianto realized the blood soaked knife was still in his hand. He hastily stuffed it into his pocket and schooled his features, hoping to pass off the scene as a simple occurrence of self defense. But from the looks of the team, it wasn't going to be easy.

"Ah … Yes … I found the weevil. It lunged at me before I could grab my gun."

Owen raised a brow skeptically as he began to walk down to the scene. He was closely followed by Jack, whose eyes were still locked on Ianto's bloody hands. The girls stayed back, probably not wanting to get too close to the carnage.

"Got a bit of something on your shoe there, Cujo." Owen gestured to Ianto foot.

Ianto looked down and saw a piece of bloody pulp resting on his laces. He shook his foot, shaking the goop free. He hated hunting in nice clothes. He made a mental note to wear something less presentable next time.

"Thank you, Owen," Ianto said causally, then turned to Jack. "Should I get a bag from the car, sir?"

Jack's brow furrowed. "No, you stay here." Jack turned to Gwen and Tosh. "Can you two bring down the cleanup kit and body bag, please?"

They nodded and disappeared around the edge of the building.

Jack walked over to the slain weevil, stepping over a puddle of bloody fluids that had leaked from the weevils gut. "Owen, help the girls get this packed up. I want to have a word with Ianto."

Owen nodded and began snapping on a pair of gloves from his pocket.

"Ianto, I need a word." Jack turned sharply, his coat billowing out behind him as he headed up towards the warehouse.

Ianto followed him, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to think of a way out of being caught unmercifully shredding a weevil. The girls walked passed them, bags in hand. Their expressions were unreadable, but Ianto had an idea what they were thinking. He knew he had had screwed up. It wasn't protocol to kill a weevil, only as a last resort. Ianto knew Jack was going to want some answers.

Ianto followed Jack until they were on the far side of the warehouse, protected from view.

Jack crossed his arms and studied Ianto carefully. "So, do you want to tell me what really happened?"

Ianto swallowed heavily. "I told you. It charged and I defended myself."

Jack raised a brow, looking skeptical. "With a knife?"

"I … It was." Unable to think of an answer, he tried to deflect. "Why does it matter what I used? I stopped it."

"No, you didn't just stop it. I saw the look on your face. You were enjoying it."

Ianto set his jaw and squared his shoulders. "Leave it alone, Jack," he warned.

"Where's the knife?"

"Why?"

"I want the knife, Ianto. I'm not asking again."

Ianto stepped back, his hand instinctively going to the pocket where the knife was resting.

Jack caught the movement and lunged forward, reaching for Ianto's pocket. Immediately they entered a struggle, in which for a moment it seemed no one could win. Suddenly there was a gasp of pain and Jack was looking up at Ianto with wide eyes. Warmth seeped against Ianto's hand and he realized that he had plunged the blade into Jack's chest.

Ianto was frozen in shock at what he'd done. There was a rattling breath and a groan, and Jack's body stilled.

There was no way to cover this up easily. Ianto pulled the knife from Jack's chest and shoved it into his pocket, hurrying towards the SUV. He had to find a way to wipe all this clean, to cover up what he'd just done.

Ianto had spent his career at Torchwood covering things up, and this was no different. He knew he could do it. He just had to think. He could hear Owen and the girls over the bank, packing away the weevil. A plan popped into his mind. He knew what he had to do. He was just going to have to work fast.

He grabbed the Retcon and went to Jack's side first, forcing a pill down Jack's throat. He had no idea how the Retcon would work on him where he was technically dead at the moment, but he hoped it would keep him unconscious for the time being.

Ianto then went down towards the others, not bothering to hide his anxiety about what he'd just done. He shook as he approached them, bottle of pills in one hand.

"Hey, you're back," Gwen said. "Come give us a hand?"

Owen looked up from the bag he was zipping closed. "Yeah, Jonesy, you made this mess. You should be the one packing it away."

"Ianto?" Tosh asked, seeing him holding the bottle of Retcon. "What's going on?"

Owen stopped what he was doing and eyed Ianto carefully. Ianto drew his gun and pointed it at Owen. "I need you to all take a dose of Retcon."

Gwen raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Ianto, honey, what are you doing? Where's Jack?"

"Gwen, I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. Please, just take the pills. I don't want to hurt any of you."

Owen went to move to his sidearm and Ianto pulled back the hammer. "Don't try it. I already killed Jack. Just do as I say and you'll all live."

Ianto tossed the pills to Owen.

"Ianto, tell us what's going on. We can help you," Owen said.

Ianto shook his head. "No one can help me. Take the Retcon, Owen."

Ianto held the gun firmly on Owen, keeping a close eye on the other two as well. He wasn't sure if he would shoot or not. The old Ianto wouldn't, but this new Ianto, he shivered at the thoughts of what he could do.

With a slow nod, Owen opened the bottle and took out a pill before tossing the bottle the Gwen. She took a pill and passed the pills to Tosh. The each held the pill in their hand, watching Ianto. Tosh was looking pleadingly at Ianto, like her heart was breaking right there. The gun in his hand wavered for a moment before he could steel himself.

"Take it," Ianto commanded, and they did.

They each sat down on the ground and stared at Ianto with expressions that could only be described as compassionate and that hurt him more than anything. How could they feel bad for him? He was forcing to take drugs, to forget something that he had to right to make them. Slowly they sank back and fell to the ground in sleep and Ianto went to work.

He was able to fake the scene easily enough. He made it look like a weevil had attacked Jack when he was out hunting with Ianto, but thankfully Ianto was able to drag Jack's body to safety after the weevil had died. He brought the others back to their homes and placed them in their beds, putting some false memories of a fun night out at the pub in the empty space of time.

Back at the hub, Ianto tossed the weevil carcass into cold storage and put Jack on the sofa in the hub. He tended to him carefully, removing his bloodied clothing and wiping him clean. Jack was going to be confused when he woke, but Ianto had ways of distracting him.

He had never wanted to be a killer, but it didn't seem like he could stop himself now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**AN:** Okay, this is probably a bit disturbing, but I did mention early on this was a dark story. It will all make sense in the end. Well, at least I hope so. Please let me know what you think either through PM or review. Thanks for reading!

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 4**

Ianto straightened up the hub while Jack slept off the effects of the Retcon, staying near as the hours ticked by. Ianto quickly went over all the loose ends he had tended too, making sure he'd got them all. He was as confident as he could be, and could only hope nothing was left to trigger a memory.

It was early morning by the time Jack began to stir. Ianto schooled his features and braced himself for anything, unsure of what Jack might remember. Giving Retcon to a dead Jack was a completely untested idea.

Jack stretched out, flexing his feet and reaching his hands up over the arm of the couch. He groaned and blinked a few times, freeing the sleep from his eyes.

"Ianto?" Jack said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "What happened?" Jack rubbed the back of his neck, working out a kink.

"You don't remember?" Ianto asked with feigned surprise. "There was a weevil, sir. You were killed."

Jack looked at him blankly for a moment, finally huffing and ruffling a hand through his hair, frowning. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, it was just the two of us. The others went out to a bar, I believe."

Jack nodded and stood, looking down at his disheveled appearance. "Well, I definitely could use a shower. You up for a little fun?" Jack winked.

"I don't believe now would be the best time as the team should be arriving at any moment."

"It's that late already? How long was I dead for?"

"Not long, but you slept for quite some time after coming back"―Ianto pulled out his watch, glancing at it quickly―"nine hours to be precise."

Jack shook his head. "Shit, can't say that happens often. Well, I'm off to the showers then. The invitation still stands if you're interested."

Ianto smirked. "I will make it up to you tonight."

Jack walked over to Ianto, slipping a hand around his waist and pulling him close, breathing against his ear. "I'll hold you to that."

And with that, Jack released him and slipped out of sight. Ianto sighed in relief, running his hand through his hair. Jack hadn't seemed the least bit suspicious. The only other one he worried about was Gwen; she had succeeded in fighting Retcon in the past, and if she wanted too, she probably could again.

Ianto went and began preparing the morning coffee. Listening to the creaking pipes as Jack showered a floor below. Ianto's mind wandered to thoughts of Jack, water running down over his muscular shoulders, the way his body looked as he stretched his neck back and let the water trail down the plains of his chest.

The proximity alarm sounded, pulling him from his thoughts. The cog door rolled open, and Owen trudged in, grumbling low under his breath. Ianto raised a brow and smirked as the doctor turned and walked down towards his lair below without so much as a second's hesitation. It seemed Owen was none the wiser, not that Ianto had expected the doctor to catch on to being Retconned. Perception wasn't really his strong suit.

There was a clattering of metal and a curse from the autopsy bay, followed by Owen's harsh voice. "Ianto, what the fuck is this shit? And where's my coffee?"

It seemed he'd found the weevil Ianto had left for him. He had considered just disposing of it himself and twisting the stories so it had been destroyed beyond retrieval, but he couldn't resist making Owen actually work first thing in the morning. Besides, without the memories to go with it, it was nothing more than just another ordinary weevil, one that looked to have been injured in a fight.

There was something freeing about getting away with it all. He wanted to relive it, to feel someone's heart beat its last again. Killing Jack was better than anything he'd done yet. Ianto's hand slid into his jacket and rested for a second on the weighty steel of the knife that rested there.

Just touching it was a like a drug, but still that was nothing compared to wielding it, to sinking it into someone's―

"Jones, where the fuck is my coffee!" Owen's voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized he hadn't moved from the counter.

Ianto stirred the coffee and tossed the spoon into the sink. Clearing his throat, he answered, "On my way, Owen."

It wasn't long after Ianto handed the disgruntled doctor his coffee that the alarm sounded again, and the girls walked into the hub. They both looked far more worse for wear than Owen or Jack had. They both looked tired. If he hadn't known different, he would have thought they truly were hungover. Gwen more so than Tosh. Gwen had dark circles beneath her eyes like she hadn't slept at all. A pang of fear struck him, maybe she hadn't. Maybe she had been kept awake by nightmares of the day before. It was something he would need to keep an eye on.

Ianto put on a convincing smile and offered them both a morning coffee which they readily accepted. Jack appeared just as Ianto was walking back towards the coffee area. He was leaning against the counter, leering at Ianto.

"I was hoping you were going to change your mind. It was lonely in the shower without you."

A smirk tugged at Ianto's lips. "I'm sure you were able to manage everything just fine without me."

Jack pushed off the edge and stalked over to him, placing his hands on Ianto's hips. "Oh, I managed just fine, but it doesn't mean it wouldn't have been better with you there."

Ianto straightened the wrinkles of Jack's shirt, smoothing his palm over the spot that the knife had been only a day before. Jack looked down at Ianto's hand, tilting his head to the side as he glanced up to Ianto's face.

"Something wrong, Ianto?"

Ianto shook his head minutely and dropped his hand. "No, nothing's wrong." He looked up to meet Jack's gaze.

"Would you tell me if there was?"

"Of course."

Jack reached up and ran his thumb over Ianto's bottom lip. "You're not alone, Ianto. No matter what, you can always come to me. You know that, right?"

Ianto took Jack's hands in his own and nodded, stepping away. "I'll be down in the archives if you need me."

Ianto didn't like the feeling of being cornered in conversation and he really didn't like lying; it was too risky a game to be playing. Jack was smart. Ianto knew there was a real risk he would eventually see through the lies. The whole situation of being confined to Torchwood made him uncomfortable. He needed to escape, to spread his wings. There was so much he could do, that he wanted to explore. His newfound senses just begged to be used.

He tried to work, but he honestly couldn't see the point in it anymore. He sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk, closing his eyes. He let the dark thoughts and images dance before him. He had never been addicted to something before, but he supposed it was the closest way to describe the feeling he got from embracing the darkness. Just touching the knife even, thinking of the blood, it made his heart race and his skin crawl with desire to move, to kill. It was unlike any other feeling he'd ever had in life, and he needed more of it and soon.

He checked his watch and saw it was time again to tend to the brood of incompetent children upstairs. He straightened the papers on his desk and headed back to the upper level to take the orders for lunch. Jack and Owen were both working on something in the office, and neither looked concerned when Ianto came in. They were engrossed with a piece of medical tech Owen had been modifying, and Ianto had to clear his throat to gain their attention. Gwen didn't looked suspicious either when he approached her in the hothouse to take her request. The last person to see was Tosh. He found her working away silently in the back corner of the hub, fiddling with the wiring leading to the mainframe. She jumped, gasping in shock when she heard him approach.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Ianto said smoothly. "I came to ask what you wanted for lunch."

Her hand was clasped over her heart, which was beating loudly in her chest. It was all he could hear. His eyes focused in on the pulse point of her throat, watching it move with every beat. It was hypnotizing.

"Is that alright, Ianto?"

"Huh." He snapped his attention back to her. "Sorry I was lost in thought for a moment. What did you say?"

"Broccoli and rice, from the place down the street, if that's alright."

"Yes, no problem." He turned quickly and subtly adjusted himself, easing the tightness the thoughts had aroused.

Everyone was gathered in the boardroom, waiting for the food to arrive when he returned. He made his way up there, bags of food balanced in his arms.

"About time," Owen snapped, whisking away one of the bags and tearing into it.

Ianto put the other bag down and Gwen tore into it as quickly as Owen had, passing out the one of the containers to Owen after a quick inspection of the contents.

"This is yours, Tosh," Owen slid a Styrofoam takeout container toward her.

Jack grabbed his sandwich and chips from the bag and sat back in the chair at the head off the table. Every settled in and Ianto turned to leave, but Jack's voice stopped him.

"Aren't you eating?"

"I ate while I was out," Ianto lied smoothly. In truth, in actually hadn't had much of an appetite for days. Just the thought of eating made his stomach turn, let alone the smell.

"Bullshit," Owen said, looking up, stabbing his fork into the takeout container. "There's no way you stopped and ate and still got back here that fast."

Gwen stopped her chewing and looked over at Ianto. "What did you eat?"

"I had a bag of crisps."

Owen snorted, looking unconvinced and picked his fork back up. "Whatever, Ianto. It's your health, mate. What do I know anyway? I'm just the twat with a medical license."

"Owen," Tosh whispered, glaring at him. "Ignore him, Ianto," she said, looking nervously at Ianto.

"Why don't you join us," Jack said, nodding to the empty chair. "Crisps aren't enough to keep you going all day. I'll give you some of my sandwich."

Ianto knew he wasn't going to win this. The simplest solution was to go along with Jack for now. Rebelling over this would only draw more attention to himself and he didn't need that with the balancing act he already had to contend with.

Sighing, Ianto slid into the chair at the end of the table. Jack took half his sandwich and placed it on the paper bag, like an impromptu plate, and slid it to Ianto.

"Thank you," Ianto said, plastering a fake smile on his face.

He picked away at his food as the rest of the table chattered away. Ianto caught her chancing glances in his direction when she thought he wasn't looking. It was curious and a bit out of character for her. If it was anyone other than Tosh, he might have been concerned but she was about as threatening as a newborn kitten.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finished his meager lunch. Jack watched him take every bite, giving him occasional looks of encouragement. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at Jack's overbearing concern.

A phone call from Downing Street drew Jack's attention away and Ianto was able to slip out of the room, taking the mess from lunch with him and dropping it into the bin.

With no rift alerts and no ongoing investigations, he was able to avoid the team, including Jack, until late in the evening. When he did appear in the main area later, Jack was standing on the top step by his office, looking down at him.

"I thought you were staying here tonight?" Jack asked, probably upon noticing Ianto approaching the door.

"I am. I just need to swing to my place first and pick up some clothes. I'll be back soon."

"Do you want me to come with?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, I'll be quick. I'm looking forward to making up my earlier absence."

Jack chuckled. "I'll make sure to be ready," he said with a wink.

Ianto slipped out of the tourist office, locking the door behind him. The ground was damp and the air smelled musky, but he wouldn't have it any other way. This was his home.

By the time Ianto had made his way into darkened alleys of Cardiff, his hands were shaking, not from fear but with something akin to withdrawal. He felt like a junkie needing a fix. He shoved his hand into his jacket and took out his knife. It sent shivers down his spine as he clenched his fist around the handle.

He felt dizzy as he tried to stalk through the shadows, trying desperately to remain hidden. He didn't have a preference for what he killed tonight, as long as he killed it. He needed to feel the blood, to smell it, to taste it. His muscles trembled as he searched the darkness with his senses, reaching out for anything in the distance.

That's when he heard it, the thudding of a heart. He followed the sound and it led him to the nearby park. At this time of night, it wasn't a place to be. Well, a place for a innocent person anyway. He supposed he'd fit right in.

Inhaling deeply, he could smell the bitter sweat and filth of the person ahead. A junkie, he imagined. He chuckled darkly. It seemed a poetic really, because he was a junkie too, just after a different brand of heroin.

As he got closer, his trembling muscles calmed and he was feeling more in control. His body began moving of its volition, the thoughts and desires not his own. It was surreal, like watching a horror movie unfold before you.

There would be no finesse in his kill tonight, this was purely need. He stepped around a tree, coming within steps of the man. The man was leaning against a tree, dirty needle by his feet. He looked up at Ianto, his eyes wide as he took in the knife.

"Look, man, I ain't got nothing." He put his hands up and stepped back, stumbling over his own feet, nearly falling to the ground.

A predatory smile came over Ianto's face as he twirled the knife in his hand, walking forward.

"Please, don't," the man pleaded, reaching in his pocket, tossing a baggie at Ianto's feet. "Take it, you can have it."

Ianto paused, glancing down at the baggie of drugs. He picked it up, studying curiously. Unimpressed, he tossed it off to the side and set his eyes on his drug of choice, the steady beating pulse of life he intended to snuff out.

Charging forward, he shoved the junkie back onto the ground, pressing a foot over his throat. Listening to his whimpered pleas, Ianto cocked his head and smiled. Never taking his eyes off the fear filled face looking up at him, he plunged the knife deep into the space beneath the man's ribs, shoving the blade up towards his heart.

Just like with Jack, there was sputtered gasp and blood trickled out over the man's lips. His eyes were wide open as his body shuddered one last time and then stilled.

Ianto withdrew his blade with a feeling of pure ecstasy. He shivered from the pleasure that was coursing through him. His mind was whirling from the intense high he was on.

He wiped the excess blood from the knife on the body before tucking it safely back into his pocket. He then took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands carefully, studying his work.

Not wanting to leave his prints behind, he picked up the baggie of drugs and tucked it safely in beside the knife. Hooking his thumbs in his pants pockets, he strolled back out of the darkness and towards home, whistling cheerfully as he did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: I was worried about this chapter so I would love any feedback. Thanks -J

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 5**

When Tosh woke the next morning and got out of bed, a strange feeling came over her, like she was forgetting something important but couldn't place what. She struggled with the thought as she went about her morning routine, showering and dressing for the day.

It was still early and the sun hadn't fully risen as she sat down at her kitchen table to sip a cup of tea. She reached over and picked up the newspaper that had been lying on the table. She set down her cup and flipped through the pages, faintly recognizing the content, although she couldn't recall ever purchasing the paper. Folding it closed, she checked the date, two days ago. Odd.

She tossed it down and stood, walking toward her room. Something didn't sit right with her. The more she tried to place the events of the previous days, the clearer it became that there was a definite gap in time.

She went to the laundry basket that sat on the edge of her room. She had been coming home late during the past few nights and hadn't had a chance to run the wash. The last few days of clothes should be in there. She hoped by seeing what she had been wearing she might recall what had actually happened.

Halfway down she found what she was looking for, something familiar, something that had been clearly worn and yet she couldn't remember wearing. Pulling the simple black trousers from the basket she examined them carefully. There was mud on the hem, and looking closer, she could see blood.

Suddenly a flood of memories rushed into her mind, flashes of a warehouse, a weevil, Ianto with a knife, blood, and finally, Ianto holding them a gunpoint, a bottle of Retcon in his hand.

She stumbled back until she collided with the wall, dropping the garment on the floor. Her hands shook as she brought them to her face. Ianto had killed Jack. It was nearly too much to handle. She knew she had to tell someone. He had to be stopped.

She scrambled through the house and gathered her things, rushing out the door not even bothering to lock it behind her.

As she drove to work, she racked her brain for any times Ianto had acted out of character, appeared different in some way, but she was finding it incredibly difficult. Ianto was a reserved person. If he didn't want you to know something, then it was very unlikely you were going to find out.

She made excellent time as there were few others out driving this early. As she made her way toward the cog door, she realized she had no idea how to proceed. What if she ran in to him? What if he suspected she knew?

She chewed on her lip nervously, wringing her hands as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Suddenly, the alarm sounded and the door opened of its own accord. Ianto was standing on just the other side of the entrance, studying her carefully, his face unreadable.

"Good morning," he said, nodding. His icy stare cut straight into her, making her heart hammer in her chest.

"M-morning, Ianto." She ducked her head and hurried past, trying to put as much distance between them as she could.

She needed to get to Jack, to tell him what she knew, but she could feel Ianto's eyes on her. She chanced a look over her shoulder and she was right; he was watching her, his eyes locked on her like a cat to a mouse.

She stumbled forward, bumping into her desk.

"Are you okay, Tosh?" Ianto asked solicitously, stepping closer.

She plastered on a fake smile, a bit too wide. "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. I should probably get started, got a lot of work to do."

"You're here awfully early today." He walked over, standing inches from her chair. Her breath caught in her throat. "Would you like an espresso?" he asked.

She nodded, hands shaking so badly she had to clench her fists beneath the desk.

"I'll be right back," Ianto said, stepping away.

As soon as he was gone, she jumped up and ran towards Jack's office, glancing behind her, keeping watch for Ianto.

She didn't bother knocking; she just barged in, taking Jack by surprise. He was sitting at his desk, open files spread out in front of him.

She pulled the door shut and clicked the lock.

"Tosh, what's going on?" he asked, standing, his hand already going to his trusted Webley.

She swallowed hard and stepped forward. "Jack, do you remember what happened the other day, when Ianto said you got killed by the weevil?"

His brow pinched and frowned. "No, but that's no uncommon when I die, especially if I'm out that long. Why?"

"Because it was Ianto. He retconned us. He killed you. I remember. There was a warehouse, a knife, Ianto stabbed you, Jack, and―"

There was a knock at the door and she turned to see Ianto smiling on the other side of the glass, holding up a coffee cup.

Jack motioned to Ianto to wait a moment before turning back to Tosh. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Jack. I remember it."

Jack sighed. "Look, I'll talk with him. See what's going on. He's been a bit detached lately, but it's hard to believe he would really do_ that._ You've been working a lot lately, long hours, little sleep, isn't it just a little possible that you might have dreamt this?"

"Jack, he needs to be locked up."

"I can't just lock him up without any evidence. I'll keep him a close eye on him. In the meantime, check over the computers and see if you can find anything more concrete."

He gave her a stern look and she nodded, feeling like she had just been told she was being overly dramatic by the one person she had counted on believing her. Jack patted her on the arm as he walked by her to open the door for Ianto.

"Sorry to interrupt," Ianto said calmly. "Your espresso is getting cold." He held out the cup for Tosh.

She took it hesitantly, glancing over at Jack who raised a brow. "Thank you. I'll just head back and get started on those files." She headed out of the office, leaving Ianto behind with Jack.

Her palms were sweaty as she settled into her chair. She had never been more anxious for Owen to arrive in her life. He was stubborn and difficult at times, but he was also protective and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to stop Ianto if it came down to it.

Footsteps on the staircase behind her caught her attention. She froze, trying not to look. She listened as the steps moved further away, towards the entrance to the lower levels.

She pulled up the CCTV on the screen in front of her, watching Ianto walk through the narrow halls below and toward his desk. He did the usual, gathering some files and straightening the items on his desk. She wondered if maybe it was all just her imagination and Jack was right, but then he sat down and did something that sent chills down her spine. He looked up at the camera, smirking and winked. She closed the program and sat back in her chair.

She couldn't go to Jack with that, could she? Would it be enough to convince him something was off?

The proximity alarm sounded and seconds later Owen and Gwen wandered in.

She fought the urge to pull them aside immediately and tell them what she thought. She didn't want to worry them, though, if it was all in her head. She was just going to have to search and find some solid evidence to show them, to prove what he had done.

God, she could only hope she was wrong. She really liked Ianto. Even though he was quiet, he had always had such a good heart. It seemed so impossible that he had done that on his own.

She worked through lunch, reading and checking the computers logs, looking for any inconsistencies. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to hint that someone had altered anything. Tosh began to feel like it was just her, that maybe she was the one that needed help, not Ianto.

In the late afternoon, a call from Andy about a possible weevil attack drew the team, minus her, out of the hub. She stayed on the comm. with them, feeding them info as they required it, all the while searching through the hub for anything out of place. She was really starting to feel crazy by the time she rifled through the rubbish bin. Nothing, not a thing to point a finger at Ianto.

"Tosh," Jack's voice came over the comm.

"Here, what do you need?"

"We're heading back, weevil in tow. Gwen got bit so have the usual supplies waiting."

"Is it bad?"

"Just a love nip," Jack said. Tosh could hear Gwen cursing at him in the background. "See you in ten."

Tosh went down to the autopsy bay and gathered the necessary supplies, laying them out on the stainless steel table.

She checked her watch; she had only minutes before they would return. She wondered if just maybe she could make it down to Ianto's desk before they got back. Just to take a look.

She bolted up the stairs and then down toward the archives, running as fast as she could. She reached Ianto's desk in under a minute and quickly began pulling at the drawers, only to find that they had been locked. She growled in frustration and smacked the desk, sending a file fluttering to the floor. She bent down, studying its contents.

There was a list of names, of places in Ianto's handwriting. There was a list of security codes she'd never seen before that looked to correlate with the locations; everything was labeled with time and date stamps. She folded the paper and shoved it in her pocket, hurrying back up to the main area.

When she got back to her desk, she checked her watch. She had made it in time, two minutes to spare. Her fingers itched to type the codes in and check the times. Her mind was whirling with possibilities. The silence was broken when the door opened and the team came in.

Jack and Owen were both supporting Gwen as she cradled a bleeding arm. They guided her towards the autopsy bay. Ianto walked in the door a moment later, but he didn't turn to follow them, instead he headed straight back to towards the archives. He didn't make a sound as he passed behind her.

The folder! She had forgotten to pick it up in her hurry. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him disappear. There wasn't much time before he would know she had been looking. Quickly, she pulled the keyboard toward her and grabbed the paper from her pocket, punching in the numbers and codes.

The first few times, it only caused an error, but then she found it. She leaned in to the screen and looked at the grainy black and white footage it brought up. There was a figure moving through the alley. He was holding something. She squinted trying to see better. It was a knife. The figure turned toward the camera and Tosh could see his face. It was Ianto. She gasped as she watched him stalk towards something in the darkness, his knife held up ready to attack.

Suddenly there was a feeling of something cold and metal pressing against her neck and she froze.

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder and then she felt someone's breath against her neck. "You were always a bit too smart for your own good, Toshiko." Ianto's voice was cold and mocking. "I think you should come with me."

He guided her up from her seat, taking the knife from her neck and pressing its tip against her back. Tears were brimming in her eyes as she let him lead her into the darkness of the levels below.

"Shh, don't cry, Tosh. I'll make it quick. I promise."

"Ianto, please. This isn't you. You don't hurt people."

He shoved her into a small side corridor, pushing her back against the damp stone wall. He leaned into her, pressing his weight against her, pinning her to the wall. He gripped her hands in one of his own and pushed them into her chest, his other hand holding the knife up for her to see.

"That's where you're wrong, Tosh. Hurting people is exactly what I do."

She squeezed her eyes shut as he brought the blade closer to her throat. She braced herself, praying that he kept his word and that it would be quick.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Thank you for reviewing. They really mean a lot to me and inspire me to write. Please tell me what you think. I am a completely needy person that way ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 6**

Jack and Owen led Gwen to the autopsy bay. Jack helped her up onto the table while Owen shrugged off his coat and donned a pair of gloves. Owen was pissed that Gwen's impatience had nearly led to someone nearly being killed again, and although he didn't want to admit it, he hated seeing her get hurt. Since the affair, their relationship had been strained at best, but he still had a soft spot for her. He probably always would.

Jack stood behind her at the table and reassuringly rubbed her shoulders and whispered in her ear. Whatever he said made her laugh, and Owen was glad at least something was lightening the mood. Owen prepared a syringe with some morphine and slid the tray over to her side.

"All right then," Owen said, grinning. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Gwen looked away and Jack bent down to press a kiss to the top of her head as Owen began unwinding the wrapping on her arm. As the last bit pulled away from the wound, it tugged at the skin, the gauze sticking to the open flesh.

"Shit, that hurts." Gwen gritted her teeth, glancing once at the bite and then paling. "Oh, god, that looks … Ugh."

Jack reached around and guided her chin so her she couldn't see what Owen was doing. "Easy, Gwen. It's fine," Jack soothed.

"Don't tell me it's fine. You're not the one who has to feel this."

Owen chuckled and went about cleaning and inspecting the damage. "You're going to need some stitches, obviously, but it's not too bad. Could have been a lot worse." Owen gave her a pointed look.

The doctor was sure the hidden meaning wasn't lost on her by the way she looked guiltily at the wall. Gwen's actions out in the field, rushing headlong into an unknown situation without backup, could have ended with an autopsy rather than a few stitches.

After placing the stitches, he reached back and grabbed a new dressing, loosely bandaging her arm.

"Keep it dry, don't do anything stupid―even though I know for you that may be hard― and with any luck, it'll heal up by the end of the week."

Gwen wriggled down off the table, Jack keeping a hand on her back for support.

"Thanks, Owen. You know, for―"

"Being the genius that I am? No problem, all in a days work."

Gwen shook her head and began walking up out of the bay, Jack beside her.

Owen tossed his gloves in the bin and trudged up the stairs behind them, not giving much thought to the mess he was leaving behind. Ianto needed something to do after all. Besides, he dumped that weevil on him first thing in the morning. He smirked as he came up to Jack and Gwen, both standing looking around blankly.

"Did anyone see Tosh leave?" Jack asked, frowning, walking over to Tosh's computer.

"I'm sure she's around here somewhere, and speaking of missing people, where the hell's Ianto? And why the fuck does he get to hide all the time? I want to file a formal complaint." Owen huffed, but apparently no one was taking him seriously.

"Did you just snort?" Owen turned and asked Gwen.

She was clearly trying, and failing, to hide her mirth. "Me? Never."

"Owen! Gwen! Find Ianto and Tosh, now!" Jack shouted, making them both turn in surprise.

"What―" Gwen started but realized that, whatever was going on, Jack wasn't giving answers. He was nearly at the entrance to the lower levels by the time she closed her mouth.

Gwen took off after him and Owen was close behind her.

Jack's heavy steps echoed down the hall, and they both ran after him, trying to catch up.

They ground to a halt when they saw Jack standing with his gun trained into the shadows of a dark side-corridor. Owen reached out and pulled Gwen back, stepping in front of her and drawing his weapon. Gwen tried to protest, but Owen gave her a look that seemed to convey his words. She stepped back and let him take the lead.

Jack's face was a grimace of pain. His gun was unwavering though as he stared into the darkness.

"Ianto, drop the knife," Jack ordered, calmly.

Ianto. What the fuck? The doctor's brain tried to wrap around the possibilities of what was going on, but he had to stop himself since nothing seemed to make any sense. Owen trusted Jack; he knew that if Jack was willing to shoot, then so should he.

"I can't Jack." Owen heard Ianto's shaky voice come from the darkness. "There's nothing left anymore. I can't stop."

"Let Tosh go and we can talk about it. We can fix it."

"You can't!" Ianto screamed. "No one can. I have to do this. It's the only way to make it stop."

"Make what stop, Ianto? Tell me so I can help."

There was a scuffling noise, and Tosh yelped. Jack's finger twitched on the trigger. "Ianto, look at me. Look at me," Jack commanded.

Owen prayed that Jack knew what he was doing.

"Good," Jack said, taking a breath. "Now talk to me, tell me what you need."

"This, I need this. Blood. It's the only way to make the darkness stop, to make the pain go away."

Jack's eyes went wide and Owen hesitated, unsure what to do. Should he come closer, stay back, Jack was shit at giving orders. At times Owen thought Jack believed they were all mind readers and would just know what to do by looking at him. But nothing could be further from the truth.

"Shit," Jack cursed. "Ianto, listen to me. I know what's going on. I've seen that emblem before, the one on your knife. It's from the Geächteten people. Just put it down, Ianto, try, please. You don't want to kill Tosh."

Owen could hear Tosh sniffle and then there was the sound of feet scuffling on the gritty floor. "That's the thing, Jack, I want to."

Tosh screamed and before Owen could blink, Jack's gun fired followed by the thud of body hitting the floor. The knife clattered against the concrete, coming to rest on the edge of the shadows.

"Help, please, he's bleeding." Tosh's voice broke him free from his shock induced trance, and he charged forward, moving past Jack who was standing stock still, face unreadable.

Entering the corridor, Owen found Tosh knelt over Ianto, who was still conscious but only barely. Jack had shot him low in shoulder, but it looked like the bullet didn't go through. Shit. That meant it probably glanced off something, very possibly playing ping pong with his insides.

He pulled his shirt over his head and balled up the material, pressing it over the wound.

"Right then," Owen said, checking Ianto's pulse. "Tosh I need you to go get the stretcher and my bag, make it fast. Jack, I need you to help me get him out into the light. I can't see a damned thing over here."

Jack nodded and came forward, kicking the knife out of the way. "No one touch that, understand. It's a Soldat knife, designed to imprint on the user's DNA. Hold it too long and it starts controlling you."

Owen didn't really give a toss about the knife. He had bigger concerns, like internal bleeding. Ianto's eyes were glazed over and he was struggling to keep them open, his breathing labored.

"Okay, on three," Owen said, slipping his hands beneath Ianto's shoulders, Jack holding the young man's feet. "One―two―three."

The got him up enough to slide him into the main hall where Owen could access him better. Immediately the doctor was struck by just how much blood Ianto had already lost; his shirt was soaked with red and he was looking pale and shocky.

"Fuck, where's Tosh?" Owen growled as he felt Ianto's thready pulse.

"Coming," Tosh's voice rang down the hall, accompanied by the sound of the stretcher's wheel squealing as she pushed it along.

"Jack." Ianto coughed, his head lolling to the side as he tried to meet Jack's gaze.

Owen was working quickly, trying to get a line started in Ianto's arm.

Jack knelt down beside him, placing his palm on Ianto's forehead, making soothing sounds. "It's okay, you just rest, Ianto. Don't try and speak."

Ianto's head shook minutely, and Owen glanced up at the two. His heart clenched. He knew the chances weren't good for Ianto and he could only hope that Jack made the young Welshman feel comforted in his last moments.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said between gasps.

Jack cupped Ianto's face, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Not your fault, Ianto." Jack's lip trembled. "Not your fault."

"Okay, he's ready to move. Let's get him on the stretcher."

Ianto's eyes drifted closed as they moved him. Owen saw Jack's panic and spoke to reassure him. "He's not gone yet, Jack. He's just slipped off for a bit of a nap, probably a blessing given all the pain that comes with being shot."

Jack nodded, not looking up from Ianto's face. He kept Ianto's hand in his own until Gwen pried his fingers away, letting Owen and Tosh get to work.

Finally, Tosh snipped the last thread, cutting free the needle from the stitch Owen had just tied. It had taken nearly four hours to repair the damage and three units of blood. The bullet had entered his shoulder, glanced off the bone and traveled down, nicking his liver before coming to rest lodged in his spleen.

His pressure had dropped more than once during the procedure, and a few times, Owen wasn't sure what had kept the Welshman from dying right there on the table.

Whatever had happened with Ianto to change him, it was obvious that it was beyond the kid's control, but it didn't make it any easier to accept that he had held a knife to Tosh's throat.

Tosh stayed quiet during the surgery, refusing to answer any of Owen's questions. He supposed that when Tosh was ready, she would talk. Maybe he would have to take her aside later and let her know he was there for her if she needed someone to talk to.

"Well, I think that will do it," Owen said, adjusting the IV flow.

Jack came down the steps, stopping halfway. "Put him in restraints."

"What? He's in la-la land, Jack. Never mind that his chest is held together with string."

"This isn't over. That knife is a Soldat. The effects won't just go away."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Thanks for all the reviews and love you guys have given this story. I appreciate it all so much. Thanks to SnarkySimaril for taking a break from the squirrels long enough to pre-read and beta.

* * *

><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 7**

"Well, that was suitably vague and cryptic. You want to elaborate on that a bit?" Owen asked.

Jack walked down the stairs and stood at the bed of the bed, looking at Ianto. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression solemn.

Owen walked over, raising his brow. "Well? Care to explain, or are we supposed to be mind readers here?"

Gwen came down the steps, pausing at the turn in the stairs. "What's going on?"

Jack turned toward her. "Might as well come join us, Gwen. You're going to need to hear this too."

Gwen walked over and slipped behind Jack, standing at the side of the bed next to Tosh.

"That knife is called a Soldat. They were designed in the 49th century and were outlawed around the time I joined the Time Agency. Part of my job was to track weapons like these. They were rightly deemed too dangerous and immoral for use."

"Okay, but what do they actually do?" Owen asked.

"The Geächteten people were once a great nation. Their advancements in technology helped save lives throughout the galaxy, but then they became locked in a civil war, fighting over the right to rule. One side, the republic, needed more soldiers, but the only able bodies they had left were the prisoners, and they weren't going to fight their own people. Not on their own anyway."

Jack paused, glancing down at Ianto and gently running his hand over Ianto's cheek.

"So, they commissioned the creation of weapons, one of which was the Soldat knife. Those weapons would imprint on the user, essentially downloading data into their systems, converting them into killers. These new soldiers would do what no one else would, and do it willingly, slaughtering their own families."

"Like he tried with me," Tosh said. It wasn't so much as a question, but a statement.

Jack nodded. "Generally, the Soldat weapons took best to users with a certain … _darkness_ in them already."

Gwen's face scrunched up. "But why keep doing it then? Why not just stop?"

"That's the thing," Jack explained. "It works on the user itself, feeding them a chemical reward for following through; it becomes an unstoppable addiction. Eventually they lose themselves to it entirely."

Tosh's brow furrowed. "There must be a way to reverse it."

Jack shrugged. "I've never seen it done. It was protocol in the agency that if we came across an affected person, we would humanely euthanize them."

"We can't kill him, Jack!" Gwen snapped, looking nearly murderous at the suggestion.

"I didn't say we were, but you need to understand, Gwen, you all do, if we don't find a way to clear this out of his system and get him through the withdrawal, he'll die anyway."

"So what do we know about this thing? What's it been doping him up with?"

"I don't know. It wasn't something I needed to know. We're just going to have to figure it out."

"I can analyze it, see what it's composed of. It's a start," Tosh said.

"Good. Gwen, I want you to give Tosh a hand. Make sure neither of you touch that knife with your bare hands." Jack turned to Owen. "I'm going to make some calls and do some research. In the meantime, I expect you not to let our boy die."

"I can do my best, but I can't perform miracles, Jack," Owen warned. "If his vitals keep fluctuating, which from what have seen, they probably will, I might not be able to stop it from happening."

"Do your best. We need as much time as possible."

xXx

Owen stood at the foot of the surgical table, his arms crossed over his chest, gazing at Ianto's still form. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at the enormity of the task ahead.

He couldn't help but think that maybe Jack wasn't thinking with his head but rather his heart; which in this case, wasn't going to help things along. From the sounds of it, what had happened to Ianto wasn't something people recover from and Jack was only prolonging the inevitable.

No one left the hub that night. Tosh and Gwen slept on the couch while Jack just chose not to sleep at all. The Captain had kept a close watch on Ianto through the night, not returning to his quarters or even his office. He used the computers in the main area, and only once did he leave and that was only to go into the archives.

Owen was exhausted, having gotten only a few hours of shitty sleep propped up in his chair. The doctor hadn't left the bay for more than a piss all night. There were times during the night when Owen thought Ianto was only a moment away from his heart failing.

He had run some scans and found a few anomalies, but he really had no way to interpret the results without knowing how the knife worked. Ianto's cerebral cortex was inflamed and there was significant electrical activity in his brain as well. It was all concerning and it seemed to just be getting worse.

The blood tests came back with bittersweet news. The fever didn't seem to be from infection. His white cell count was within normal limits and the wound wasn't showing any inflammation, but that was where the good news ended.

It seemed that the new symptoms were a result of exposure to the knife, not the result of being shot. What Owen wouldn't have given for it to have been something he could actually cure.

It felt all too similar to Katie, something foreign and alien taking away a person he cared about, and there was nothing he could do as a doctor to stop it. He felt sick from the frustration, from the helplessness. More than once he slammed his fist against desk, feeling defeated.

Owen slumped down in his chair, picking up his coffee cup to take a drink, only to find it empty. He had become so accustomed to the bottomless cups of coffee that Ianto had always supplied, it was hard to function without it.

He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He scrubbed his palms over his face and looked up at Ianto. He was still resting comfortably, thanks mostly to the cocktail of drugs Owen was pumping into him.

"Yes!" Tosh's excited shout from above made Owen look up. He glanced at Ianto's vitls and ensured he was stable before heading up the stairs, taking two at a time.

Jack and Gwen had already joined Tosh and were looking at her screen as she pointed at the display.

Tosh looked at Owen excitedly. "Come here. I found something I think will help."

Owen came over and leaned on the back of her chair, studying the screen. It was a diagnostic breakdown of the knife's composition.

"As cool this is, Tosh, how does it help us exactly?" Owen asked, still squinting at the screen.

"Look here," Tosh said, pointing at the screen. "This sequence, see how it reacts to the receptors."

Owen nodded along, trying to see where she was going with it.

"Well, if you look at this, you can see it results in something almost identical to an opiate." Tosh looked up at Owen, who was just beginning to understand what she meant.

"So he was getting pumped full of alien heroin," Owen said slowly as realization dawned on him. "He's been jacked up on bloody heroin!" Owen slapped the back of Tosh's chair. "Shit, no wonder is vitals are all over. Morphine is an opiate; it's acting on the same receptors as the knife."

Jack looked at Owen, his face tense. "So, what does that mean for Ianto?"

"Well, it means I can treat him now at least." Owen crossed his arms. "According to Tosh's data, I should treat him like any other addict going through detox. That and I can't give him morphine any more."

"Won't he be in pain then?" Gwen said, her eyes wide.

"I can manage his pain in other ways. Thanks to the rift, we have some other options. But he's still going to be sedated for now, until we can sort out the other issue."

Gwen frowned. "What other issue?"

"His being a psychotic killer," Owen said dryly.

Tosh slid her chair back and stood. "I haven't had much luck with that yet, sorry."

"It's okay, Tosh," Jack said. "I've been doing some research. From what I've learnt so far, it works on the memory and emotional centers of the brain, altering and inserting the information there, but beyond that, I haven't found anything in the records and UNIT had never heard of it. I'm afraid most of the records were lost when Torchwood One fell."

"Shit," Gwen said, walking over to the railing and looking down at Ianto.

"Well, from the information you have found, I can at least explain the brain swelling I'm seeing on his scans," Owen explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jack sighed and walked over to join Gwen, looking down at the med bay. "We need to everything we can. The things he did, it wasn't him. We can't give up on him."

Tosh walked over to Jack, placing a hand on his back. "We won't, Jack."

Jack nodded. Owen didn't need to see Jack's face to know there was pain there. Ianto had taken a place in the captain's heart, whether he fully admitted it our not.

Tosh sat down on the edge of the desk, picking up her tea. "So, do we even know where he got the knife?"

Jack shook his head. "I've been looking over the hub security, trying to narrow down when this started, but so far I haven't found when or where he got the knife."

Owen walked over and nabbed Gwen's coffee. "Well, as exciting as this is, I have a patient tend to, so if you'll excuse me."

xXx

Once Owen stopped the morphine and began treating the symptoms of withdrawal, Ianto's vitals seemed to level off into a less dangerous zone. He was still essentially detoxing from heroin, but at least now Owen knew so he could treat it.

But the doctor couldn't help but think that the effort was all still in vain. If they couldn't bring him back to himself, he would be a killer. If they did, he would be broken at best, stuck with the knowledge of what he'd done, and knowing Ianto, he wouldn't want to live after finding out what he'd been.

Owen hoped Jack had a plan. If they couldn't fix him, humane euthanasia seemed like the kindest option.

"How is he, Owen," Gwen's voice broke his through his thoughts. She was standing by the bottom step, looking at Ianto, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth.

Owen smiled, walking over and taking Gwen's hand. "Come here." He pulled her over to Ianto's side, reaching back and sliding his chair over.

"What are you doing?" Gwen looked adorably confused.

Owen smirked, shaking his head. "Sit with him, hold his hand. Let him know he's not alone."

Gwen looked over at Ianto and then back at Owen. She nodded, reaching back, taking the chair and nudging it closer to the bed. She sat down and slipped her hand into Ianto's, lacing her fingers into his.

"What should I say?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Owen.

Owen shrugged. "Anything, really. Just let him hear your voice."

Gwen leaned over and hesitantly began talking, telling him about the weather at first and then Rhys. After a while she relaxed a little and was rattling on about her family and last year's burnt Christmas dinner.

Owen stomached grumbled and he realized he hadn't eaten since the previous day. He was starving. Leaving Ianto in Gwen's capable hands, he slipped up the stairs. He briefly entertained the idea of cooking, but settled on just ordering some takeout.

When he reached the main area, Tosh was passed out at her desk and Jack was sitting on the couch, laptop open and papers strewn about.

"How's he doing?" Jack asked, setting down the paper he was holding.

Owen walked over and shrugged. "Better, he's hanging in there."

Jack slumped back, frowning. "I never saw this coming. I never saw what was happening. Maybe I just didn't want to see it."

Owen knew exactly what he meant. He'd done it himself with Katie when things had first begun to go wrong. "I think it's part of being human, Jack. We all do it. We all want to believe that nothing bad is going to happen to someone we love."

Jack stared blankly into the distance before sighing. "Yeah, I suppose we do."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Thanks for the reading and reviewing. Please, if you have time, let me know what you think ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 8**

Owen sat on the couch beside Jack, dumping the remnants of crisps from the bag into his mouth. He shook the bag, freeing the last crumbs and gaining a chuckle from Jack.

"I'm honestly surprised you're not dead," Jack said.

Owen scowled as he tossed the bag onto the table. "Whatever, they tasted fine"―Owen shrugged―"Maybe a bit stale, but better than nothing."

"You could have made something. We do have a kitchen."

Owen raised his brow. "Yeah, I suppose I could, but the hub might not survive my attempts. I think we're safer if I stick to stale crisps." Owen leaned back on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. "That, and I'm just too lazy to bother."

Jack laughed. "Yeah, I think we've all gotten a bit lazy lately. We can blame Ianto for that, he takes care of us too well."

Owen kicked his feet up onto the small coffee table, knocking some of the papers to the floor. He stretched his neck out, peering over at the mess. "Oops, sorry about that."

"No you're not," Jack said.

"No, not really, but I was being polite." Owen laid his head back on the couch and looked up at the cavernous ceiling above. "What are we going to do, Jack? I think we all know Ianto won't be able to live knowing what he's done if we do manage to get him back."

"I know," Jack sighed, joining Owen in staring up at the ceiling. "I wish I had the answers we needed. I have called everyone I can think of, even tried getting a hold of the Doctor, but I keep hitting dead ends."

Owen rolled his head to look at Jack. "I had an idea, but you may not like it. Hell, I'm not even sure it would work without fucking him up even more."

Jack's turned to look at Owen, his expression tense. "What is it?"

Owen sat up, looking to Jack. "We could try to Retcon him. You said the knife worked on the user's memories. If we wiped out his memories to before he had the knife, it might remove what it's programmed into him."

Jack seemed to contemplate what Owen was suggesting. "What kind of risks are we looking at?"

Owen shrugged. "Could be anything. We might wipe out everything or nothing at all. We could take away everything he is or enhance the programming, making him worse. He could seize or even stroke out and die. But I can't see any other options. It's the only shot we've got," Owen said. "If we don't, he'll end up dead, either by his own hand from the guilt, or by ours because he's still a killer."

"Yeah." Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "He's stable for now though, right?" Jack looked to Owen.

Owen nodded. "I'm managing the withdrawal, and so far there's been no complications from the surgery."

Jack stood, looking over at Tosh, who was still sleeping slumped over her desk. "I'm going to think on it. I'll make my decision by the morning."

Jack grabbed the ragged blanket from the couch and carried it over to Tosh, laying it over her shoulders gently.

"Get some sleep, Owen," Jack said. "I'll keep an eye on Ianto―let you know if anything happens."

Owen would have argued if he wasn't completely shattered. "Wake me if anything―and I mean anything―changes. If he so much as twitches funny, I want to hear about it."

"Will do, now get some sleep. That's an order."

Owen rolled his eyes, but the yawn that escaped took any meaning out of it. He kicked his shoes off and stretched out on the couch. Rolling onto his side, his nose wrinkled at the smell of the fabric. When was the last time it was cleaned? And did he want to know why it smelled like cheese? The perks of working for Torchwood, sleep exhaustion to the point you just don't care what you're sleeping on smells like rotten cheese.

xXx

Jack walked quietly down the stairs, a small smile coming to his face as he saw Gwen, resting with her head on Ianto's arm.

He walked over to her, and nudged her arm gently to rouse her.

Her head snapped up and she looked around wildly for a second before she seemed to realize where she was. "Oh, hey, what's going on?"

"I was just coming down to relieve you. Why don't you go down to my bunk and take nap. Tosh and Owen are both asleep already."

Gwen blinked tiredly, stretching as she stood. "You sure you're okay down here alone, you don't want company?"

Jack rubbed her shoulder. "Go get some shut eye. I've got Ianto to talk to."

Gwen nodded, a wan smile on her lips. "Night, Jack."

"Night." Jack watched her leave before sitting down beside Ianto.

There was so much he wanted to say, to apologize for. He felt like he had failed Ianto, as a friend, a lover, and a boss. Jack had become complacent, taking him for granted again despite his best efforts not to.

Jack didn't like to think about the end to things he cared about. He knew nothing would be with him forever, but that didn't mean he liked to watch it disappear. Maybe if he had been more willing to see Ianto, really see him, he would have been able to stop this all from happening.

Why hadn't Ianto come to him? Jack sighed, reaching over to run his hand over Ianto's cheek, feeling the rough stubble. Jack always liked the way Ianto looked in the morning, five o'clock shadow and unkempt hair. But now it only made him look all the more helpless laying there.

So much was going through Jack's mind. He had to decide Ianto's fate and it wasn't an easy decision. But he knew that Owen was right; Ianto wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing what he'd done if they managed to get him back.

Using Retcon to wipe out what would need to be months of memory wasn't something to be done lightly; doing it to someone in Ianto's condition could result in a state worse than death.

Retconning Ianto was the only choice they had, though, and if it didn't work, then Jack was going to have to be prepared to let him go.

Jack leaned over Ianto and pressed a kiss to his head, letting his lips linger there for a moment. He wanted more that anything to slip his arms around him and comfort him, hold him, take away his pain.

Jack's sat back and looked over him, taking in just how broken Ianto looked. There were wires, IV's, bandages, streaks of yellowish brown from where Owen had prepped him for surgery, blood caked under Ianto's nails from where it poured down his side over his hands. A simple white sheet covered all of him but his chest, which was covered by bandages.

Ianto would be appalled by how he looked, having always taken pride in his appearance. Wanting to do something, needing to, Jack went to the sink and filled a small silver bowl with warm water, grabbing a wash cloth as well.

Jack punched some buttons on his wrist strap, adjusting the heat; he didn't want Ianto to get chilled. Then, very carefully, he began wiping the cloth over Ianto face.

"If you were awake, I bet you'd really like this," Jack whispered as he gently cleaned Ianto's arm. "You're always telling me I don't pay enough attention to your less sensitive parts."

Jack smiled sadly. It just wasn't the same without the witty retorts.

Jack dipped the cloth and wrung it out, bending so he could see to wash Ianto's side. Jack's face was tense as he carefully navigated around the bandages. Apparently whatever Owen had sloshed over Ianto to prepare him for surgery was made of some alien compound as it refused to wipe off.

"I think Owen should be thankful you're not awake to see the mess he's made. I hate to think what you do to his coffee." Jack straightened up, convinced that the stains weren't removable.

"Well, you still need a shave, but you're looking a bit better. We may have to do this again sometime when you can enjoy it." Jack carded his fingers through Ianto's hair.

"Why is it always you?" Jack straightened the sheet and sat back down beside him, taking Ianto's hand in his own. "You're not alone, Ianto." He squeezed the younger man's hand.

The time passed slowly during the night. Jack counted the seconds between each click of the machine beside Ianto; he had counted every mole and freckle on Ianto's chest and arms; he had even prayed, something he hadn't done in years. Finally, he rested his head on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, knowing soon he would be either saving or condemning Ianto.

At first Jack thought he'd imagined the cool fingers twitching against his own, chalking it up to wishful thinking or too many hours awake, but then it happened again, this time with more force.

Jack's head snapped up and his hand tightened its hold on Ianto's.

Ianto's eyelids flickered open and Jack immediately saw the pain in his eyes.

"Owen," Jack shouted.

There was a thump upstairs followed by a muffled curse and hurried footsteps. "What's going on?" Owen said, hurrying down the stairs.

"He's waking up," Jack said, gently stroking Ianto's arm.

Owen cursed and began rifling through the cart by the bed. "Try to keep him calm if you can."

Jack nodded. "Ianto, shh, it's okay. I'm right here. You're okay."

"Jack." Ianto's voice was hoarse.

"Hey there." Jack forced a smile, stroking his thumb over Ianto's forehead.

"Hurts." Ianto squeezed his eyes shut.

"Owen's working on it, hang in there."

Ianto groaned and Jack looked at Owen. "I want to talk to him before you put him under again. I need to know where he got the knife."

Owen glared at him, shaking his head. "Jack, he's in pain."

"I know, but I just need a minute."

Jack bent over Ianto. Gripping his chin, he guided Ianto to look at him. He didn't want Ianto to suffer but it had to be done.

"Ianto," Jack said firmly. "Come on, open those eyes for me."

Ianto's eyes blinked open, meeting Jack's gaze. "Hurts so much."

"Listen, Ianto. I need to know where you got the knife."

Ianto shook his head, his eyes closing again.

"Come on, Ianto. I know it hurts, but I need to know," Jack said firmly.

Ianto struggled to open his eyes and focused on Jack. "Box, archives."

"That's enough, Jack." Owen walked around the bed, grabbing a syringe. "He's in too much pain for this."

"When, Ianto?" Jack shook him.

"Weevils … library …" Ianto trailed off as Owen pushed the meds into the IV.

Jack remembered that day. It was over a little over three months ago. Three months and he hadn't seen what was happening to the person he was closest too.

Owen looked lethal as he rounded the table."He was in pain and all you cared about was getting answers that don't even matter."

Jack set his jaw. "We needed to know."

Owen narrowed his eyes at Jack, pointing a finger at him. "If you ever pull that shit―"

"Whoa! What's going on? Jack, Owen?" Gwen came rushing down the stairs, closely followed by Tosh.

Owen waved a hand. "Nothing, we're fine."

"Well excuse me if I don't think things look fine, Owen. Why are you two fighting? What's going on?"

Jack smoothed out his features. "It's fine, Gwen. Owen was doing his job and so was I."

Owen scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Ianto was awake."

"He was awake?" Tosh asked, her eyes wide.

Gwen looked at Jack. "Was he still, you know … evil?"

Jack shook his head. "He was in too much pain to say much, but I could see the old Ianto still in there."

"The poor thing. Did he say anything helpful?" Gwen asked, watching Tosh as she walked over to the bed.

"It seems he found the knife in the archives around the time we captured the weevil in the library basement," Jack explained. "If we check the footage, hopefully we can see just how he got it."

"That was months ago," Gwen said in shock. "That means he was like this all that time and we didn't see it. What kind of friends are we?"

Jack walked over, standing beside Tosh. "I don't know."

Tosh looked over her shoulder at Owen. "Is he okay now, Owen? Is he in pain?"

"No, I don't think so. I loaded him up with a nice cocktail of happy juice. He shouldn't be feeling a thing."

Tosh lips pursed. "So are we any closer to a solution?"

Jack took a deep breath, putting his hands on his hips. "Yeah, we're going to Retcon him."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Thanks to Nothing-Rhymes-With-Ianto and Simaril for the feedback and catching my boo-boos. Please let me know what you think.

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

**Chapter 9**

The next two days passed in a flurry of activity. If they were going to Retcon Ianto, they were going to need to remove any trace of what he'd done. It was going to be hard enough not to trigger him accidentally in conversation; they didn't need him finding something peculiar and investigating it.

Jack laid out a plan for a cleanup operation. He assigned tasks to everyone. Tosh was given the task of wiping the computers clean of any reminders and removing the CCTV footage from the servers. Gwen was sent to Ianto's flat to do a top to bottom clean.

Owen, when he wasn't directly tending to Ianto, began working through the medical files, fabricating explanations for Ianto's injuries. Jack spent the time between Ianto's side, his office, and the archives, double checking everything for loose ends. The plan would only work if they could successfully sell it to Ianto.

Owen closed the folder he had set out before him. He had finally finished. It would look like the injuries were from a car accident, a fucked up one, but he fudged the details enough to make it believable.

He turned his chair and leaned back, catching sight of his empty coffee mug and feeling a twinge of pain. It was near impossible to look at Ianto as just any other patient. Regardless of their bickering, Ianto had become part of Owen's fucked up little world and he didn't want to lose him.

Owen thought back to the last real conversation they'd had. It had been months ago, he realized with regret. It was the day he had considered topping himself, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Owen had gone home that night with the thought of death echoing in his mind. As he sat down on his couch, staring at the gun on the coffee table in front of him, there was a knock at the door.

The last person Owen had ever imagined seeing now stood on the other side of the door, looking strangely impatient to be let in. For some unknown reason, Ianto had appeared at his flat in the middle of the night, carrying a pack of beer and a bag of takeout from Owen's favorite restaurant. When Owen opened the door and asked him why he was there, Ianto simply shrugged and stepped in. Pushing past him, Ianto asked over his shoulder if Owen was going to stand there all day or come eat.

Owen followed Ianto in, who had already made himself at home on the couch, pushing the gun aside to make room for the beer and food. He never mentioned it, just continued to make himself comfortable. He had never seen Ianto looking quite like this before, looking so old and young at the same time.

They never spoke of the gun on the table or why it was there. Instead they spoke of rugby and beer and bitched about life. Pissed out of their gourds, they passed out on the couch. When Owen woke the next morning, Ianto was gone and so was the gun.

Going in to work later, Owen was greeted with the same uptight Ianto that he'd always known, nothing to suggest he was even a ghost of the man who was at his flat the night before. When Owen demanded coffee later, Ianto rolled his eyes and called him a prat, making him grin. Nothing had changed because of the previous night, and it was perfect.

Owen never did ask just how Ianto knew to show up at his place at midnight on that random Thursday, but he was glad he had. He just hoped he could be as good a friend as Ianto had been to him.

He glanced up to the railing, catching movement from above. Jack was walking around the workstations. There was a crashing noise followed by a curse from Jack. Owen craned his neck to see better, but he could only catch a glimpse of Jack's backside, not something he particularly wanted to see.

"Umm, Jack, you need help with something, or you just crawling around for the shit of it?"

There was a rusting noise and thump. "Dammit." Jack appeared at the railing, stumbling to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "Huh? No, I'm fine. I dropped something," he said. "But I found it."

Owen shook his head and rolled his eyes. "So, I was doing some thinking—"

Jack raised his brow and opened his mouth.

"Shut it, Jack. We need to talk, think you can part from whatever you're doing long enough to come down here for a chat?"

Jack nodded and came down the stairs. Despite Jack's outward appearance, Owen could still see the pain in Jack's eyes when he walked over to Ianto's side.

"What were you thinking?" Jack asked, stroking his hand over Ianto cheek.

Owen stood and perched himself on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "That if we do this and it goes … wrong." Owen paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "That maybe we should wake him first, before the Retcon, if there's something you wanted to say to him— in case it doesn't work."

Jack stayed quiet, his back still turned to Owen. Finally, he nodded and Owen could see him draw a shaky breath before turning to him, his blue eyes betraying his control. "Will he be in pain?"

Owen pushed himself off the desk and walked over to join Jack. "I can keep him comfortable, but I don't know for how long, so it'll have to be quick."

Jack took a deep breath, stepping back and looking at Owen. "I'm going out. We will do it when I get back. I shouldn't be long."

"Okay, I'll be here."

Owen watched Jack disappear up the stairs and seconds later, Owen could hear the distant sound of the lift.

It was about an hour later when Jack reappeared. He looked like he had just gone hand to hand with a weevil. Maybe he had. Whatever he'd been doing, Owen hoped it helped the captain get his mind straight before they did this, as it was a one shot kind of deal.

Jack shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto Owen's desk. He sighed, hands shoved into his pockets. He nodded to Owen. "Whenever you're ready."

Owen didn't question him. He went to the IV pump and adjusted the flow of drugs and then grabbed a vial and syringe from the table. Drawing it up, he injected it into the IV port.

He watched Ianto's vitals carefully, watching for the changes that would signal him waking.

"He's coming around," Owen said. "I'll give you some privacy. I'll still be in ear shot though, so try not to give me nightmares."

A small smile played on Jack's lips. "Can't make any promises."

Owen chuckled and patted Jack on the arm as he headed up to main area. Gwen and Tosh were nowhere to be seen, and Owen wondered if maybe Jack had sent them off so he could have the time alone with Ianto.

Owen grabbed a chair and took a seat, listening carefully for a second to make sure he would be able to hear them below. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but he also didn't want Ianto to be in unnecessary pain. He wanted to be able to intervene quickly.

Confident he could hear, he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his folded hands. Owen closed his eyes and before he realized he was doing it, he found himself praying, something he hadn't done since the day Katie died.

A gasp pulled him from his silent prayers, and his eyes snapped open. Ianto was awake.

"Shh, easy, Ianto," Jack said. "Are you in pain?"

"No," a weak reply came from the Welshman. Even he was in pain, Owen knew he would be reluctant to admit it.

Owen heard Jack sigh in relief. "Good, that's good. I would ask you how you're feeling, but I can imagine."

There was a groan from Ianto, and Owen almost stood, but stopped when Ianto spoke again.

"Why am I here?" Ianto asked.

"You're sick, Ianto. But we know how to make it better; we're _going_ to make it better."

"No, I mean why. Why are you saving me? I don't deserve—" A painful cough broke from Ianto's chest, making Owen cringe sympathetically. "Please, Jack, you need to kill me. There's no other way."

"No, Ianto. You may know a lot of things, but you're wrong about this. There is another way. You don't deserve to die. What you did wasn't you—wasn't your fault." Jack's voice was strained and Owen imagined that there were probably tears in Jack's eyes by now.

"I can't live knowing what I've done. I'm a monster. Please, Jack, don't make me live like this."

"You're not a monster, Ianto."

There was another gasp, this one sharper and followed by a curse from Jack. Owen jumped up and started for the stairs.

"Easy, Ianto," Jack soothed.

Owen could see them clearly as he round the stairs. Jack was leant over Ianto, his forehead touching Ianto's, the Welshman's hands firmly grasped in his own.

The room was practically swallowed by the rawness of the emotion that swirled around the pair. It was enough to make Owen pause, frozen by the wrenching sight.

"Please let me go, Jack."

"I can't."

"Why?" Ianto breathed.

"Because … because I'm selfish. You mean too much to me."

Ianto's body tensed and his back arched in pain, a cry slipping from between clenched teeth. "I can feel it, the darkness. I can't stop it. It hurts."

That was enough to break Owen free of the trance he was in, and he hurried down to his desk, grabbing the sedative and quickly injecting it into Ianto's IV.

Jack didn't seem to notice, or care, that Owen was standing at the bedside as he leant in and pressed his lips to Ianto's forehead, his hands cupping the sleeping man's face.

Owen felt like he was intruding and found himself stepping back without realizing.

Jack rested lowered his lips to Ianto's ear and whispered something too low for Owen to hear. Whatever it was, it was made Jack make a noise suspiciously close to a sob, which he covered quickly by clearing his throat.

With one last touch to Ianto face, Jack turned to Owen. "Well, no time like the present, right?"

"You sure?" Owen asked. "I know we've talked about it, but there's no going back."

Jack nodded. "Give him the Retcon."

Owen pursed his lips. "Right then," he said, walking over to the locked cabinet and getting the drug. "We should know pretty quickly whether it interacts badly with what that knife did to his brain."

"How will we know?" Jack asked.

Owen paused. "If it reacts badly, he dies. If he lives, then there is a chance this plan might actually work."

Jack stared at Owen, his jaw set tightly, like he was debating on whether to throttle him or thank him for his honesty.

"He won't die," Jack said finally.

Owen blinked and swallowed hard. "Yeah, so let's do this, shall we?" He walked over to the bed and grabbed the IV line, turning it so the port was toward him. "Here we go," he said, injecting the Retcon into the line.

Owen's eyes remained locked on the monitors as Jack's hands gripped Ianto's limp one tightly.

The seconds seemed to pass slowly, each breath, each soft tick of the clock behind them seemed unnaturally loud. As each second passed, and Ianto's heart kept beating, Owen's heart – which was previously hammering – began to slow and a tiny bit of hope began to unfurl its wings in his chest.

Jack must have felt it at the same moment he did as he sighed in relief, and when Owen looked over at him, he saw him smiling.

After an hour, Owen was fairly certain they had crossed the first hurdle successfully. Now it was only a matter of which version of Ianto they would be greeted with when he woke, if he woke at all.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: This is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and I look forward to hearing what you think.

Why I named this story Chasing Dragons. Chasing the dragon is a term once coined to describe the ever elusive high of opiate addiction. With every use, the high becomes harder to reach. The users life becomes a living hell, searching for the feeling of that first high. They are forever stuck chasing the dragon.

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><p><strong>Chasing Dragons<strong>

Chapter 10

There is something very disconcerting about waking to the distant sound of chirping machines and whispered voices. It is made all that much more so when one's body is aching in places you were sure it wasn't when you laid down to bed the night before.

Ianto hadn't marshaled the strength or desire to open his eyes yet, as whatever awaited him in the room wasn't something he was sure he wanted to see. He had a sneaking suspicion he had been wounded and possibly concussed, as his head was pounding in rhythm with the humming machines.

Owen harsh voice stabbed at his ears from the distance, followed by Jack's. He was both comforted and simultaneously concerned to know he was in the hands of Torchwood.

Bracing himself, he peeled back his eyelids, blinking and squinting in the harsh lighting of the autopsy bay. Owen's face immediately came into view, blocking out the bright overheard lights. His face tight with concern, he checked Ianto's pupils and fiddled with the wires attached to Ianto's chest.

"Well, I guess a welcome back is in order," Owen said, one side of his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin.

Ianto's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to reply, only to find his throat nearly too dry to speak.

"Hold that thought," Owen said, holding up a finger. "Gwen, can you get some ice chips and a spoon?"

Gwen voice floated in from somewhere nearby. "Of course. Be right back."

Ianto was ridiculously confused and growing more and more frustrated by the second. He tried to make this clear with his expression, but when Owen looked down and saw it, it only worked to make the doctor laugh.

"I get it. You're annoyed, right?" Owen asked.

Ianto nodded. "Jack?" Ianto croaked. He winced, his throat felt a bit like he had swallowed shards of glass.

"Oi! I said no talking! Jack's right there," Owen said, motioning behind him. "I told him I wanted to make sure you were okay before he started coddling you within an inch of your life."

Ianto rolled his eyes. Owen huffed and stepped back, waving over Jack to the bedside.

Jack's face came into view and Ianto couldn't help but notice just how tired he looked. It wasn't an expression that he was accustomed to seeing on Jack's face.

"Hey there," Jack said, smiling.

Ianto tried to speak, but Jack placed his fingers over Ianto's lips and shook his head.

"Don't try yet," Jack said.

Ianto looked up at him, giving him his best pathetic stare he had. Jack ran his fingers through Ianto's hair, a wan smile of his face.

Whatever had happened, Ianto could imagine that it must have been bad from the way Jack seemed to be relishing in the simple act of touching him. Ianto wasn't going to interrupt him; it was clear Jack needed this little bit of intimacy.

"Sorry it took so long," he heard Gwen say. "I didn't realize I was going to need to smash the cubes."

When Ianto looked up, he saw Gwen smiling at him from beside Jack. Ianto didn't miss her teary eyes and the way her lower lip quivered just slightly as she looked at him.

"Hey," she said, forcing a smile. "We were worried about you."

Ianto was too exhausted to do more than give her a weak smile.

"All right, Gwen. Let's give them some space," Owen said.

Gwen kissed her fingertips and then pressed them to Ianto's head before stepping away.

The ice rattled in the cup in Jack's hand as he poked at it with the plastic spoon. Never had Ianto thought he would be so excited at the prospect of being spoon fed ice chips, but nothing sounded better to him now.

Jack carefully balanced a piece of ice on the spoon and brought it toward Ianto's lips. Ianto strained to lift his head and immediately Jack's other hand was there cradling it and taking the weight.

"Let me help," Jack said and Ianto was more than willing to let him.

Jack fed him a few more pieces, seeming pleased by Ianto's moans of satisfaction.

"I think we may need to explore this a little more later," Jack said. "I never knew you had a thing for ice play."

Ianto coughed, nearly choking on the bit of ice melting in his mouth.

Jack looked apologetic. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well … not really fine. Everything seems to hurt and it would be nice to know why."

Jack looked far more serious. "You were in an accident."

"An accident? What kind of accident?"

"Work related."

It was obvious that Jack was being vague on purpose and Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened. A work related accident at Torchwood could mean anything. Ianto had filed reports of some pretty extreme things since he began his career at Torchwood. He only he hoped whatever had happened didn't involve anything as embarrassing as the Great Ribena debacle of 2005.

Ianto licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry again. Jack took notice and stirred the cup again, but this time Jack tipped the ice into his own mouth. Before Ianto could say something, Jack's lips were on his. They were cool from the ice and Ianto opened without hesitation, letting the ice slip into his mouth along with a quick pass of Jack's tongue. It felt hot alongside the cold and it made him moan into Jack's mouth.

All too soon, Jack pulled back, leaving Ianto feeling breathless and craving more.

"I think Owen might consider your methods of delivery a bit unorthodox," Ianto quipped.

Jack waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, if he thinks that's unorthodox, he'll hate to know how I check your temperature."

Ianto rolled his eyes and sighed. "So, are you going to tell me what really happened yet?"

"The truth is, you were hurt in an accident. It was my fault. We had to put you in cryo while we found a way to help you."

Ianto pushed Jack's hands away and tried to push himself up, but the action sent fiery waves of pain through his shoulder. "Fuck."

Ianto gritted his teeth, stretching out on the bed. Any ideas of getting up were gone from his mind. He didn't want to experience that level of pain again anytime soon.

"What are you doing to him down there?" Owen called over the railing.

"He's—"

Ianto waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, just sore."

Owen huffed but walked didn't argue.

The brief bout of pain hadn't been enough to distract Ianto from Jack had just told him.

"I can't believe you froze me!"

Jack reached for his hand but Ianto wasn't having it. He brushed him off again.

"Ianto, it's okay."

"It's so not okay, Jack."

"Okay, not okay, but I promise you didn't miss anything worth remembering."

Ianto sighed and let Jack take his hand. "You're not going to tell me what really happened are you?"

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, but no, and you can't go looking either."

"This sucks, Jack."

Jack squeezed his hand. "I know, but at least you're still here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably let the archives go to shit and start drinking instant."

Jack grinned. "God I've missed you, Ianto Jones."

Ianto reached up and grabbed Jack's collar and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Hey, I didn't approve that!" Owen snapped.

"Then don't watch," Ianto said. He tried to pull Jack closer, gripping the collar of his shirt tightly. He scowled when Jack pried his fingers free and stepped back, letting Owen move in beside him.

Owen was holding a clipboard and was scratching something down on the file attached to it. Ianto often thought that the doctor was actually drawing pornographic stick figures in an attempt to look busy rather than being productive.

"Right then," Owen said, tossing the clipboard onto the desk. "First, how are you feeling? And don't bother lying."

Owen's bedside manner was still as abysmal as ever and somehow that was almost comforting.

"Sore, chest hurts."

Owen crossed his arms. "To be expected. Having your chest cracked open tends to hurt for a while."

Ianto's eyes went wide. "My chest … you had to crack my chest open? I have been frozen _and_ had my chest cracked open?"

Jack stepped over to the head of the bed, placing his hands on Ianto's cheeks. "Shh, calm down."

Owen was glanced at the monitors with concern. "You need to calm down or I'm going to knock you back out."

Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's forehead, speaking against his skin. "Listen, all you need to know is you're fine now. You need to trust me, Ianto. You need to let this go. Do it for me."

Ianto closed his eyes and sighed. It figured that Jack would guilt trip him. He really wanted to know, but it obviously meant a lot to Jack and he would respect that and not ask.

"Can I at least know what kind of injuries I have and how long I need to be in a bed?"

"That we can answer," Jack said. "Owen?"

"Well, first thing's first," Owen said. "I've had to remove your spleen and your liver is in a right state. You have stitches holding you together and they'll be in for another week. You've got a catheter in that I want to keep in for another day or so."

Ianto felt his face pale. When he didn't think it could get any worse it always did. Owen had catheterized him. Owen had handled his … bloody hell.

"As far as moving, I want you under observation for the next few days but after that we could discuss other arrangements."

"You want me to sleep in the autopsy bay until then?" Ianto asked. "I am not staying in here! Jack, tell him."

Jack nodded. "Owen, can't we move him up to the couch or maybe we could set up a cot in my office?"

Owen shook his head, tossing a hand in the air. "I think he'd be better off in here, but I know that look." He motioned to Ianto. "You'll give him anything he wants when he makes that face."

Owen was right. Jack could never say no to Ianto when he made that face; it was like his kryptonite. It had come in handy a few times when trying to convince Jack out of doing something completely idiotic.

After a few curses and cries of pain, Owen and Jack maneuvered him up to the office where Tosh and Gwen had setup a cot. It was surprising comfortable and the bedding was clean, a far cry from the iodine stained sheet that Ianto had been lying on before.

The recovery was a slow process and the questions of what really had transpired never left Ianto's mind. Whatever it was, it not only scarred him, but it also seemed to have scarred them as well, but in a more subtle way.

There were looks that Ianto knew they didn't intend him to see. It reminded him of the expressions he'd seen so many times when someone had to walk past weevil, like they were expecting to be attacked if they looked away.

He couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to garner such attention, such fearful glances.

Over the following weeks, it became clear that Tosh was the most affected. She smiled and offered a hand to him if he needed it, but if he stepped too quickly around her, or walked up behind her, she would jump and for a moment look like she'd seen a ghost.

Jack tried to soothe Ianto's worries that he'd done something wrong, but it was hard to ignore the evidence. He was beginning to question the story they had told him, or more correctly, what they didn't.

It had been a quiet afternoon at the hub, nearly a month since he had been woken. Ianto was going about his normal routine, gathering the dirtied dishes from the boardroom after lunch.

The tray was full and the plates rattled against each other as he carried them down to the kitchen to be washed. He slid the tray in beside the sink and began washing up. His mind wandered as his hands moved on their own, the task so familiar now it didn't require much thought.

Setting the last mug into the drainer, he started on the cutlery. When he picked up the knife Jack had used to slice his apple at lunch, he felt a prick of anticipation tickle the back of his mind.

He paused, not sure what to make of it. It wasn't as if there would be a reason to have such a strange reaction, but it nearly felt like a flash of déjà vu. A hauntingly familiar sensation spread throughout him.

"Ianto!" Jack's voiced echoed through the hub, startling him. He dropped the knife, causing it to clatter into the sink. "We need to go. There is a weevil in Tesco helping itself to the meat department."

Ianto smirked, drying his hands. "On my way, sir."


End file.
